


I'll Be Your Barista

by soullessfollower98



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessfollower98/pseuds/soullessfollower98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are transported to a place where they are forced to discover the wonders of the Destiel Tumblr tag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Barista

**Author's Note:**

> This is like super short because I wrote it for a school project. But my friend thought it was cute, so I decided to post it! Enjoy!

It was almost too quiet to hear.

Almost.

It was a barely audible murmur, a faint trickle of words dripping into the room.

But Dean still heard it.

He quickly turned to look at Castiel, the angel standing stiffly behind him, and opened his mouth, about to tell him, warn him, something.

But it was too late. The world was changing, shifting around them, the air pressing down on them, then feeling light and breezy.

And then instead of standing in the dark, damp basement of the demon they had just killed, the two were in a bright, white, spotless room. There was nothing covering the walls, no doors, no windows. You almost couldn’t tell where the floor started, wall ended, wall started, floor ended.

The room was completely blank. Completely boring. Except for a table in the middle (which was also white), with a black laptop in the center. The laptop was the only dark thing in the room, and the contrast was harsh. It was like the computer was a black hole, and it had sucked all of the color out of the room. Maybe the walls had been painted, with all the colors of the rainbow. Dean didn’t know.

Castiel stepped forward, his expression serious and his movements purposeful. He walked up to the laptop and pressed his hand against it, causing the screen to turn on, the background different shades of blue.

“This is a computer,” Castiel said gruffly, unnecessarily, and Dean had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The angel pressed a single key, causing the screen to change, and then they were looking at some sort of website, the screen now a mixture of dark blues, whites, and what looked like pictures of people.

As Dean stepped closer, he could see a word at the top of the screen - _Destiel._ And, then, the website name: _Tumblr._

“Dean.”

The hunter turned to face Castiel, who was staring intently at the screen, his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, Cas?”

“These are images of us.” Cas pointed to the screen, and when Dean looked, he was right. It wasn’t just pictures of people. It was pictures of _them_.

At the top of the screen, it was Dean and Castiel in the crypt. Dean’s face was bloodied, desperation in his eyes. The words _I need you_ were under it, and the man could remember saying them with perfect clarity. The two men had never talked about the implications of those words (and Dean was sure as hell glad about that), but now it was like all those emotions were rushing back to the surface.

He looked at the next picture.

It was a drawing of the two of them, well drawn, too, and they were... _kissing?_

Dean glanced up at Cas, who now had a slightly flushed face and was frowning deeply.

“What is _tumblr_ , Dean?” he asked, his hands moving to the computer, typing something in, but all that ended up happening was the screen scrolled down, and new pictures were visible. “What is _Destiel?_ ”

“I-I-” Dean coughed, trying to get his nerves under control. _They’re just pictures on a website, Winchester. They don’t matter._ “I don’t know.”

Castiel looked up at him, his blue eyes piercing, intense, and he tilted his head to the side.

Dean felt heat rush to his face, and he looked away from the angel, and from the computer. He walked around, feeling the walls, trying to find something - _anything_ \- that explained why they were suddenly transported to this random white room.

After a few minutes, he asked, “Can you get us out of here, Cas?”

He waited, patiently, for the man to reply, and it took about a minute and a half.

“No.” A pause. And then: “Do you know how to brew coffee?”

Dean turned to look at him, both eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

The angel had a very serious and determined look on his face, and he kept glancing back and forth between Dean and the computer.

“I just read a story where you were a barista at a coffee house,” he said. “And I was a customer.”

“Alright, Cas, enough, just, here.” Dean walked over to the table, looking pointedly at Castiel before closing the laptop. Or, at least, _trying_ to. No matter how hard he pushed, the computer wouldn’t even budge.

“Dean.” The angel grabbed his arm, tightly, and Dean looked up at him. His eyes seemed even bluer. “Do you not want to be my barista?”

“Wha-what’s that supposed to mean?” He forced his arm out of Cas’s grip, taking a few steps backwards. “It was just a story on a stupid website. It doesn’t matter.”

Castiel frowned, looking back down at the laptop, then back at Dean. He seemed to be trying to decide something, and then his face cleared, and he started walking towards the hunter, determination now dominating his expression. Before Dean could move, or protest, or do anything, really, the angel was pressing their lips together.

It was shy, and sweet, and gentle, everything that Dean had imagined a kiss from Castiel being.

When they separated a few seconds later, both of them with red faces, Cas said, “That’s what I would do if you were my barista.”

Dean breathed out a laugh, a smile taking over his lips. “Okay, okay. I’ll be your barista.”


End file.
